


You Don't Always Get What You Want

by Lady_Phenyx



Series: Whumptober 2019 [25]
Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Drugged Drink, Kidnapping, Other, ask to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 22:37:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21126389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Phenyx/pseuds/Lady_Phenyx
Summary: Someone new has come to the annual Midsummer Eve party. Someone Snufkin met on his winter travels. Someone Snufkin doesn't like and didn't want to meet again.Someone who is willing to play dirty to take Snufkin with him when he leaves the valley.Whumptober Day 21: Laced Drink





	You Don't Always Get What You Want

Snufkin had met many, many people in his twenty odd years of traveling.

Some were great, and he looked forward to their paths crossing whenever that should happen to be. Some were all right, passing acquaintances that he barely spoke to.

Some he would gladly never see again. Unpleasant people at best, most of them rigid and hidebound, park keepers and police and orphanage principals and the like.

And of course, both ends of the scale. The people he'd go out of his way to avoid, and the people he'd go out of his way to return to, year after year.

Snufkin glanced over the rim of his glass at two of the most important people in his world, who were currently sharing a dance.

Snorkmaiden and Moomin. Who would have guessed they would not only have kept dating after all those years of playing at it, but would have drawn him in as well, and the attachment Snufkin had so feared would be a home, a safe harbor to return to after his winter travels, not the anchor pulling him down to drown he'd feared it would be?

It made him feel as if something warm had lodged in his chest, warm and fluttery and precious.

This year's Midsummer Party was the biggest yet, as a good many of the competing bonfires and celebrations came together in the middle of Moomin Valley to celebrate together.

Mymble and Too-Ticky swung by, laughing and dancing, and Snufkin beamed. It was good to see them both so happy, more so now that he knew that was his older sister out there.

He'd been playing with the band until just a minute ago, taking a break now to have a drink before he played himself hoarse, and was actually managing to enjoy the party for once.

Knowing so many of the people here helped, as did being known in turn, so the expectations – and his boundaries – were, for the most part, understood.

Of course, there were enough strangers here that he was going to have to duck out for a break soon, but at least he wouldn't be leaving Moomin hanging again.

Snufkin looked over the crowd again, debating rejoining the band again versus seeking out Moomin and Snorkmaiden once he'd finished his drink, when he saw him.

Snufkin went still, the way a forest creature does when they see a potential predator.

He'd had the unpleasant opportunity to unfortunately meet this person, this so-called 'noble,' on his travels, and worse luck to catch his eye.

And he was the sort who thought he should have whatever he wanted, raised to believe he could eventually get his paws on it no matter what he had to do to get it. That he was entitled to it.

Maybe if Snufkin ducked out now, he wouldn't be seen...Moomin would be upset, but if Snufkin explained, then it would end up all right...too late.

He'd been seen, and the noble was making his way towards Snufkin, with Mrs. Fillyjonk in tow, with no escape in sight.

Was that why he was here? What on earth would bring him to Moomin Valley?

“Ah, Snufkin,” Mrs. Fillyjonk said, with only a slight hesitation before Snufkin's name. “Lord Crawstrong, this is Snufkin, our resident vagabond. Well, as resident as a vagabond can be, that is,” she said with a fake titter. “Snufkin, Lord Crawstrong. He's looking for talent. Our Snufkin is quite the virtuoso on the harmonica, as you may have heard, given he was playing earlier with the band.”

“We've met,” Snufkin said flatly, the tip of his tail lashing in irritation. Lord Crawstrong, smirking faintly, took Snufkin paw and pressed a kiss to the back of it, ignoring the face Snufkin made and Snufkin's attempts to pull free. “And he still doesn't understand that 'don't touch me' includes him.”

“Indeed we have met,” Lord Crawstrong said, as Mrs. Fillyjonk started at Snufkin's words, vaguely uncomfortable as she watched the byplay, dismissing it after a moment. “What luck, that we should meet again! The harder to get you play, the more I enjoy the chase.”

Snufkin tried again to pull his paw free, and Lord Crawstrong's fingers dug in tighter, unnoticed by Mrs. Fillyjonk as she continued to chatter. A faint smirk on Lord Crawstrong's face said he knew Snufkin was trying to be free, and that he couldn't get free without being released. That he was enjoying this.

“You're hurting me,” Snufkin finally snapped. His paw was finally released and he staggered back, cradling it to his chest as Lord Crawstrong gave insincere apologies.

Snufkin nodded, seeming to accept them to the watchers, and disappeared into the crowd.

\---XXX---

Snufkin had intended to simply leave the party, but on reflection, he needed to find his friends and family.

They needed warned about Lord Crawstrong.

Moominmamma was near the food table, checking it over during a brief lull in dancing.

Watching her, Snufkin was suddenly deeply aware of how little he had to tell her about Lord Crawstrong, and faltered.

The worst he'd done where there were witnesses was to hold Snufkin's paw too long and too tight, and to say that disturbing statment about playing hard to get.

She had already seen him, and was holding out her paw for his. “May I?” she asked. “I heard someone hurt you?”

Snufkin sighed and gave her the sore paw. As she looked it over he told her what he knew, about the encounter he'd had outside Moomin Valley with Lord Crawstrong and what had happened just now.

“Oh dear,” Moominmamma said, letting Snufkin take his paw back from her loose, gentle grip. “Well, we'd best tell the others, especially Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden. And watch out for yourself, dear. We'll keep an eye out, as well, of course. Do you need to go?”

Snufkin debated for a moment before shaking his head. “I doubt he'll try anything more here,” he said. “Not with so many people watching. And I'd like to tell Dove and Princess myself.”

Moominmamma patted his cheek gently, and he leaned his face into the touch for a brief moment. “All right, dear. Some people can be such a disappointment, can't they?”

\---XXX---

Moomin and Snorkmaiden were found, and told, and they drew Snufkin into their dancing, providing a formidable shield against unwanted attention. A shield that could also be a good distraction, as Lord Crawstrong was forgotten in favor of dancing with Snufkin's two favorite people.

After awhile, Snufkin rejoined the band, playing with them for song after song.

A tray was brought around later, the music changing to the record player so that the band could take a break.

Snufkin took his cup and wandered to the edges of the party, joining Little My and Mymble and Too-Ticky and the Inspector where they sat, enjoying the show of people milling about and dancing.

\---XXX---

Snufkin stumbled, bracing his paw on a tree.

He hadn't had anything to drink tonight...he didn't like the taste, too sharp and wrong in his mouth, or the way it made him feel. It made what people claimed were even fine wines taste like some of the worst of Moominmamma's medicines.

He hadn't even finished the drink the band had been given, and it hadn't been alcoholic. It _had_ been somehow salty, and he'd only downed about half of it before setting it aside and 'accidentally' knocking it over after long enough he could conceivably have forgotten it was there.

So why did he feel so...so drunk?

Snufkin put a paw to his spinning head. If he could just make it to his tent...no, Moomin House, it wasn't that much farther and he'd deal with Little My's commentary if it meant getting Moominmamma's help.

Moomin House was in sight now, and Snufkin tried to stagger a little faster, aiming for the path ahead as his feet thudded dully on the path, feeling as though it swayed under him, as though he were walking through fog.

And Lord Crawstrong stepped out from under the tree that Snufkin made camp under.

Snufkin stopped short as Lord Crawstrong walked towards him, wanting to run but unsure he could, with the road still so uncertain under him.

“My, my, seems something didn't agree with you,” Lord Crawstrong said smugly. “Looks like you're going to need some help.”

Lord Crawstrong grabbed Snufkin's wrists, spinning the two of them around and pinning Snufkin up against the tree.

“I always get what I want,” he whispered to the weakly struggling Snufkin.

Snufkin drew breath and cried out, only managing a short yell before Lord Crawstrong had his paw over Snufkin's mouth, muffling his cries.

“Save your breath, no one will be coming,” Lord Crawstrong said. “Shh now, don't fight it. We're going to take a little trip together, you and I.”

He watched eagerly as Snufkin's eyes went wide with fear before sliding closed, the drug he'd slipped into the band's drinks finally taking full effect.

He carefully slung Snufkin over his shoulder, the mumrik light now that he was unconscious, and headed off, not noticing when Snufkin's hat slipped from the vagabond's head and drifted to the ground behind them.

Too many people would ask questions here. Vagabonds were supposed to disappear on a whim, mumriks more so, but still.

Best not to be seen.

He didn't see the eyes watching him from Moomin House, curious of the noise and confused as to what they had seen, or when they disappeared, having figured out that something was up.

\---XXX---

Snufkin woke with an aching head to the sound of creaking wood and wheels rolling.

He tried to put his paws to his head and started fully awake, staring at his paws in shock and stunned, terrified disbelief.

Someone had tied his paws with a silken scarf, crossing one wrist over the other and wrapping the scarf over and around the crossed wrists.

His hat was missing, to add a final insult.

It hadn't been a dream after all.

Lord Crawstrong sat across from him, leaning against the cushioned side of the carriage they were riding in and watching Snufkin smugly.

Snufkin glared at him, and Lord Crawstrong chuckled. “Such a little wildcat,” he said, highly pleased. He reached over, taking Snufkin's chin in his paw and tilting Snufkin's head to look over Snufkin's face. He snatched his paw back just in time, only barely missing getting a nasty bite, fangs clicking shut a millimeter away from the retreating hand. “I look forward to taming you.”

Snufkin didn't dignify that with an answer beyond a sharpening of his glare. “What did you do?”

“I just added a little something to the drinks sent to the band,” Lord Crawstrong said. “I told you before, I always get what I want in the end.”

“You're not getting me,” Snufkin snarled softly. “I'm not a thing. How many times do I have to tell you no before you'll listen‽”

He turned to the window then and proceeded to ignore Lord Crawstrong in favor of plotting escape.

\---XXX---

Lord Crawstrong tried reaching across the space separating them a few more times as the day passed. A light touch at Snufkin's cheek, his arm, his hair. Running a paw along the edge of his smock, pinching a fold of the fabric as though testing the quality of the garment.

Snufkin snapped at him each time, keeping Lord Crawstrong from touching him, and he could see the wheels turning as Lord Crawstrong considered him and planned.

Snufkin didn't want to think about what he might be planning.

\---XXX---

“I need to go, ah, commune with nature,” Snufkin announced, the first words he'd said all day since their brief exchange when he'd first woken.

Lord Crawstrong looked at him, uncomprehending. Snufkin groaned softly and rolled his eyes, enunciating slowly as he clarified. “I have to pee.”

Lord Crawstrong looked startled for a moment, as if it somehow hadn't occurred to him that Snufkin was a living creature who therefore had needs, including the most basic of bodily functions.

He rapped on the carriage roof and it drew to a halt.

Lord Crawstrong searched for a minute before pulling off his sash and cravat. The cravat he tied around Snufkin's waist, the sash to the cravat, for a makeshift leash.

Snufkin's small claws dug into his palms, fighting not to show the fury of being leashed in such a manner as he was plucked out of the carriage by Lord Crawstrong and set on his feet.

“Make it quick,” Lord Crawstrong ordered.

“Some things can't be rushed,” Snufkin said with what dignity he could before marching into the trees and trying to ignore the feel of the cravat around his waist.

After taking care of business – because he really did have to go – Snufkin paused, waiting.

Then he yanked on the leash with all his might.

Behind him, there was a crash as Lord Crawstrong lost his balance, yelping so loudly one would have thought he was falling down a cliff, losing his grip on the sash as he fell.

There was a tug on it as the driver grabbed for the sash, making Snufkin skid and catching his breath as the cravat dug into his waist with a sudden jerk, but he twisted, yanking harder on it, and the silken sash slipped from the driver's hand, unable to keep a grip on the slippery fabric.

And Snufkin took off into the trees, the sash flying behind him like a banner.

His claws shredded the cravat as he ran, the sash catching on each twig and bush he passed as Snufkin flew through the trees, falling in shreds behind him as he fought to get it off.

In frustration when the cravat refused to tear off, he snatched the sash and yanked it around to the front, bundling it up as he fled.

Lord Crawstrong and his driver crashed through the forest behind Snufkin, blundering their way through the trees.

On the road, they might have caught him, but these were the woods – Snufkin's territory.

And they hadn't yet left Moomin Valley. Very close to it, but only reaching the borders. Snufkin knew these woods.

Snufkin ran as he hadn't run in years, faster even than the last time he'd been chased by police.

There hadn't been so much on the line then.

Behind him, Lord Crawstrong and his driver sounded like a herd of elephants clomping after him. Snufkin saw a flash of white through the trees and veered towards it, leaping onto a fallen log.

There was a deep ditch on the other side, and Snufkin leapt over it – directly into Moomin's arms.

Moomin fumbled, stumbling back under the sudden weight, and Snufkin gripped at his fur with his still bound paws.

There were cries of surprise as Snufkin suddenly appeared, leaping out of the forest like some sort of spirit, turning to cries of anger as the group saw the sash binding his wrists, the makeshift leash trailing to the ground.

Anger which was directed at Lord Crawstrong and his driver as they emerged, torn and disheveled, from the woods, stumbling to a halt at the sight of the people waiting on the road.

They paused at the fury coming their way momentarily before Lord Crawstrong straightened, a charming smile sliding easily onto his face.

Snufkin spoke before he could speak. “He drugged me, and the rest of the band! And kidnapped me! And he kept trying to put his hands on me!”

Lord Crawstrong sputtered, and whatever story he was concocting was stopped as Too-Ticky, Snork, Moominpappa, and the Joxter surrounded him.

“Save it for the Inspector,” Snork advised him. “But we believe Snufkin.”

Too-Ticky took hold of Lord Crawstrong's arm, and he glared down at her, as if affronted a woman would arrest him.

He stumbled when he tried to pull away – Too-Ticky was much, much stronger than people gave her credit for, even stronger than she looked.

The driver looked ready to run, but he hesitated and re-thought that when Little My growled at him, several others looking ready to tackle him if he tried.

Too-Ticky started Lord Crawstrong moving, firm as the tides and just as unyielding, on their way back to Moomin Valley.

Snorkmaiden fussed, but Snufkin wouldn't let her untie him just yet – it was the only evidence they had.

There were cries of shock as they returned, turning to outrage as Snufkin was set back on his feet and he told the Inspector what had happened, still tied paws in front of him, bruised and scratched from his flight through the forest.

And Little My chimed in, telling them what she'd seen the night before, the reason they'd all followed in the first place.

Lord Crawstrong protested the entire thing vigorously, trying to proclaim innocence, even as people looked at each other uneasily.

Another place, and someone might have believed him, trusting his rank over Snufkin, but here, where Snufkin was known, it wasn't enough.

Snufkin was finally untied, Joxter's claws shredding the scarf viciously, and Lord Crawstrong made a sudden dash for escape while everyone watched Snufkin being freed, breaking free of the restraining paws.

Only to trip and go tumbling down one of Moomin Valley's many steep hills.

They all watched in silence as he tumbled and flailed down the hill, dislodging rocks and with many a yelp and grunt.

The Inspector sighed. “I suppose I'd better go get him. The cells may not be up to his standard of living, but he should have thought of that before doing all this.”

He set off down the hill, followed by a few others and the ones surrounding the driver, ready to march them all off to the station.

There was a tug on the sash still around Snufkin's waist, and he looked askance at Snorkmaiden as she tugged on it again, gently drawing Snufkin towards her as he blushed, sliding his arms around her neck as she pulled him in close.

She wrapped her arms around him, Moomin wrapping his around them both, each of them nuzzling at Snufkin.

“Our brave Blossom, we're so glad you're safe,” she breathed, and Snufkin rubbed his cheek against her fur. “...you're very pretty when you're all tied up, did you know that?”

Snufkin buried his burning face in Snorkmaiden's fur as she giggled.


End file.
